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Tell Them Radio, Just for you. x
This is the poem that gave me goose-bumps when i first read it as a youngster.
Walter de la Mare had written to one of his friends that contrary to the general perception that the dwellers of that house had died and hence were not responding to the Traveller’s call, it was actually the Traveller who was the Ghost; that he was dead and this was why the people who lived in that house were not able to hear his call.
Mill Road Cemetery on the Somme is close to the Ulster Tower and the village of Thiepval. Many of the Headstones have been laid flat as the ground subsides into the underground tunnels.
Once you have visited the Battlefields you will understand why it inspired me to use it for this site.Thank you - Charles Haskell,Portsmouth,UK 2009
The Listeners
by Walter De La Mare
‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
Trooper William Jackson, Royal Horse Artillery
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
....Ulster Tower.......Walter dela Mare.....Mill Road Cemetery..
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:—
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
The Ulster Tower, Somme, France
